


As Permanent as Death

by RebelMage



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Epistolary, F/M, Lavellan's gender is not explicitly stated, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 15:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 2,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5933971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelMage/pseuds/RebelMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of letters dated back to the Dragon Age. It is speculated they were written by the Inquisitor, though no conclusive evidence can be found to support that theory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First letter

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, I'm so proud of myself for finishing this! I'm very bad at finishing stuff.  
> As I said in the tags, this Lavellan's gender is not explicitly stated, although I wrote this with my Mirenan Lavellan in mind. Still, you can imagine whatever you want to!  
> Title taken from the song I Wish I Could Forget You from Passion.

My heart,

You will never read this letter. If you are reading this letter, it will be due to circumstances I cannot even begin to imagine right now.

I do not intend for anyone to read this letter. Not even myself. I am merely writing to try and sort out the jumbled mess that is my thoughts. However, I have never understood the appeal of writing to no one. That is why this letter is addressed to you.

Ma vhenan. My heart. Perhaps I no longer have the right to call you that, but the fact remains that it is the truth of the matter. While festivities are still going on downstairs, I find I cannot join the others in their rejoicing, for my heart is elsewhere. You are elsewhere.

You did not even say farewell.

_The following couple of paragraphs have been scratched out to the point of illegibility._

And you have not even given me the answers you promised. Is that why you left? Did you not want to answer my questions, for once? Well, Dread Wolf take your answers. Dread Wolf take my damned questions. I could live without them, if it meant I could still have you by my side, even as a friend.

Or were you planning on leaving all along? If so, you should have told me. Or did you think I would not have let you go? Did I unwittingly force you into a relationship you did not want? Did I give you no way to refuse? It was not my intention, but it is a possibility. You are just an apostate and I am the _a word has been scratched out here_.

I am plagued by many questions and doubts, and you could have answered or assuaged some of them. Why did you choose not to, my love? The only answer to that question that I can think of is that you did not trust me. Did not trust me with your answers, did not trust me to let you leave, did not trust me to be an honest person.

Relationships are supposed to be built on trust. This means that the entire foundation of our relationship is a lie. Our relationship was a lie, even if you claim otherwise.

I am angry. Whether my anger is aimed at you or at myself, I cannot figure out. I feel like, by all rights, I should hate you. I wish that I could hate you; it would make everything easier. I wish I could forget you.

Yet you, my heart, shall forever remain in mine.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off, erasing the writer’s name._


	2. Second letter

My heart,

I did not intend to write you again. After I finished writing the previous letter, I thought I could leave it behind me. I knew I would not forget you, but I hoped to be able to put it aside and move on with my life. I even considered burning the letter as some sort of symbol. Obviously, I have now decided against that course of action. I have to admit that I tried. I had the blighted thing in my hands, but I just could not do it. Suddenly, it felt like the letter was a part of me, like the words were an extension of my very being, and destroying it seemed as inconceivable as tearing off one of my own limbs.

But that is not the purpose of this letter. This is a letter of complaint. Not about you, not necessarily, but about me, or at least a traitorous little part of my mind. That part has been influenced by you, though – or at least by your absence – so I suppose this complaint is also at least partly about you.

My complaint is that part of me still hopes. I know you will not come back, but I still look for you. I still wait for you. When my mind is not otherwise occupied, I start to wonder what would happen if you did come back, how I would react. I know I would forgive you, eventually, but I hope I would be able to be angry. I deserve that much.

But I should not think of such matters. I know it will not happen, and dwelling on it will not do me any favours. I do not want to wish and hope, because I know it is in vain. I have so many duties; I cannot afford the distraction.

I see now that there can be no happy ending to our story. I had expected to cry while writing this, but it appears my tears have dried up. That is probably a good thing; I do not wish to become like a character from a romance, crying over my lost love. It would be rather unbecoming and would not accomplish a thing. I will not write poetry about heartbreak or compose songs. You were the artist of the two of us, after all.

What was the purpose of this letter again? I seem to have lost track already. My thoughts jump from one matter to another in the most ill-planned quest for melodrama ever heard of. I cannot blame you for this, though, at least not entirely; this has always been the case for me. I am perhaps the most easily distracted person I have ever met. Heartbreak has most certainly not helped, though.

I try to concentrate on politics, which reminds me of that night at _more scratched-out words_ , and I think of that ridiculous hat you wore. Then, I wonder what kind of hat that was, and all of a sudden it is too dark to continue reading in the obscure history book I found.

Although that is not important right now. I wrote this to complain, and not about that. I have always thought hope to be a good thing, but I have started to hate it. Every time I think I might be seeing you in the corner of my eye and I find it is not upon turning around, another piece of me shatters; you would think there would no longer be anything of me left with the sheer number of these disappointments I have endured. Does this make me seem like a lovelorn maiden?

Oh, I give up on this.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	3. Third letter

My heart,

I am terrible at writing letters. I am lucky that _a name has been scratched out_ does all of my letter-writing for me; having to do that myself would result in a diplomatic disaster. I think too quickly for my hand to follow, so the words that flow from my scribbling hand are one big mess that would leave anyone reading them confused. It is a good thing nobody will end up reading these.

You might be wondering why I am writing this letter. I do not have a good reason. It is late at night and I find myself unable to sleep, so I thought I would tell you about what has happened on my life. There is one thing in particular that I want to tell you, though it has taken a lot of debating with myself to decide that I should. Now that I am doing this, I might as well share this.

I think it is time for me to move on.

Our relationship, if you can consider what we built on lies such, was so very short. I did not realise that until a couple of days ago, to be honest. At the time, with all that was going on, it seemed to last an eternity, but we were not even together for a year. I should not let you linger in my heart for so long, no matter how hard and fast I fell for you. I have decided to take matters into my own hands.

This decision did not come to me completely without help. Recently, I made the acquaintance of a Vashoth woman. She is tall, as is to be expected, and muscled, and is very much the type of person I normally fall for, that type being tall and muscled women.

I have decided to ask her out.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	4. Fourth letter

My heart,

She turned me down.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	5. Fifth letter

My heart,

Okay, you know what? I’m done. I’m done feigning propriety in these letters. I’m done trying to pretend to be someone I’m not. Well, not completely done, since I still have duties to the _a word has been scratched out_ , but I at least won’t try and maintain this distance in fucking letters to my ex-lover who broke my heart and left. A bunch of letters that no one will ever read and could therefore not hurt my reputation in any way. I’m writing these letters as a way to express what I’m feeling, and what I’m feeling isn’t a bunch of pretty words penned in neat cursive.

What I’m feeling is frustration. I thought, well, sure, I had my heart broken, but I can move past that, right? Let’s try to ask someone new out. Maybe have a rebound fling. But no. No, fate won’t let me have that. I can’t even have a one-night stand, because people don’t see me when they look at me, no, they see the _a word has been scratched out_. I can’t even have that. It’s like I’m not even a person anymore, like all I am is a tool for other people to use, and I can’t even fucking have one piece of comfort. Do you know how much I wish things could return to the way they were? To before all this shit started happening? I used to think that, despite all the crap that’s happening, at least I had you. That you were the one good thing that came out of all this. But even that isn’t true.

I’m bad at dealing with heartbreak, okay? Or at handling emotions in general. But I can’t talk to my friends about any of this, because I can’t show them how weak I really am. They need to be able to rely on me. Well, the friends that are still here; most have left to do their own thing by now. And yet I still have to remain here.

Sometimes, I entertain the fantasy of just leaving. Of packing up some supplies in the middle of the night and going away. I won’t do that; I have some sense of responsibility left in me. But it’s a comforting thought. I miss freedom.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	6. Sixth letter

My heart,

It’s been about a year since the previous letter I wrote. I’d honestly almost forgotten about them, that’s how busy I’ve been. I only remembered because I saw _a name has been scratched out_ again. I didn’t mention her name last time, because I didn’t know it. Well, I certainly know it now, and I certainly got to know her a bit better. I don’t know what’s changed between now and last time, why she changed her mind, but it was a welcome distraction. I know nothing will come out of this, except for some further nights together, but it was a taste of freedom. Of before. Of carelessness. I’d forgotten what it felt like.

I wonder where you are. I wonder if you’ve moved on. I wonder if you’re happy.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	7. Seventh letter

My heart,

Another three months, or is it four? I’m not sure. I’ve never been too good at remembering when something happened. Anyway, that was not why I’m writing.

This morning, I realised something. Thinking about you no longer hurts. I don’t know how long this has been the case, but frankly it was about time. It’s been over a year since I last saw you. I think I still love you, but I’m not sure. It’s not painful, at least. Now, I can just focus on the good memories. Close to all my friends have left, so happiness is getting harder to come by. I’m not good at being lonely. I’m used to being surrounded by people who know me. I know I can’t go back to that, though. Everything that’s happened has changed me too much; I can’t go back to being who I used to be. But I’ve accepted that.

I haven’t been sleeping too well lately. It’s probably stress. It’s a thing that makes me miss you a bit more again, because you always helped when I couldn’t sleep. Still, the fact I’ll never see you again is another thing I’ve accepted.

Acceptance. Compliance. I’m just settling for the best I can get, and I have to make do with that. Still, I suppose things could be worse.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	8. Eighth letter

My heart,

I’m fairly certain I ended my last letter, however long ago that was again, saying that my situation was not the worst possibility. Usually, I’m not one to believe in silly superstitions, but I feel like I screwed myself over by writing that. Well, that, or the universe just really likes messing with me. Actually, I already knew that. Whatever.

My life is going to change again soon. I’m not yet sure how, but it won’t be for the better. If I thought I’d been sleeping poorly before, well, then I don’t even know what to call this. Whenever I do manage to fall asleep, I soon wake up from dreams already forgotten but nonetheless disturbing. I seriously don’t know what to do.

I’m scared, my love, I’m so fucking scared. I miss you more than I ever remember doing, because I just wish you were here to help me. Or at least make things seem less bad than they are.

I have to put on a tough front. I have to pretend to be handling this. I wish I had someone I could confide in.

I have to go now – duty calls – but I’ll write you soon. I need to at least try to deal with this. Maybe telling you will help.

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	9. Tenth letter

_The handwriting of this letter is shaky and nearly illegible. Tear marks both stain the paper and serve to make the words even harder to read._

My heart,

I’m so fucking scared. I’m dying. I know I am. I’m dying and still I have so much responsibility. I don’t want to die. I’m too young. Why do I have to do everything, why can’t someone else take over for once? Why am I still a pawn for other people to play with while I have one foot in the grave?

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	10. Twelfth letter

_The handwriting of this letter is also shaky, but less so._

My heart,

I apologise for the last letter. Our reunion left my mental and emotional state quite fragile. I even forgot to thank you for essentially saving my life. The way I wrote to you was entirely unbecoming.

On another note, I think I have figured out how you can be reading this. I am dead. My love, are you reading this on my grave? I do hope I received a proper funeral. Are you mourning me?

Regardless of the answers to those questions, I have one thing to tell you: I forgive you. Perhaps you were directly responsible for my death. Perhaps you were indirectly responsible. Possibly, my death was in no way related to anything you did. I hope for your conscience’s sake it is the last option, though I doubt it will be. However, none of that matters. I forgive you. I love you. I still do, to this day.

I have no way of knowing what you will do from this point on, just as I have no way of knowing the events leading to my death at the moment of writing, but I still believe you can do the right thing. I hope you will take these words and my previous ones to heart. Both you and this world are not beyond redemption. I hope that this letter will never reach you, that I do not have to die as a result of this conflict. Still, if it does, know that I forgive you, and know that I believe in you.

Forever yours,

_The bottom of the letter has been torn off._


	11. Thirteenth letter

_The handwriting of this letter is still shaky, though again decidedly less than in the previous letter. Still, there is a distinctly hurried, almost frantic quality to the words._

Why did I write all those things? What if these letters fall into the wrong hands?

Even though I initially did not want to, I read through the previous letters, and removed some stuff. Things that make it easier to identify me. Names. Some descriptions of events. I even destroyed two letters that were too full of things I don’t want anyone besides you and me to read.

I will not write you again. I think there will soon be an end to our conflict, for better or for worse.

Know that, to the end, you will remain my heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment, and feel free to come visit me on my [Tumblr](http://magerights2k16.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
